Danced to the Edge
by ALC Punk
Summary: Post-Before I Sleep, Weir&Sheppard, She waits until after the sex to ask him how he knew.


_Disclaimer: Not mine. Rating: R. Sex. Pair: Weir/Sheppard Set/Spoilers: Post-Before I Sleep Notes: Title from Kate Gibson's "Dance Me To the Edge", sort of. Inspired by random things including Metric's 'The People'. This really did start out as fluff, and then took a left turn at Albuquerque. shrug_

_**Danced to the Edge  
**by ALC Punk!_

It's after that she asks him, her hands tangled with his, her arms around him as she presses into his back. "So, how did you know it was my birthday?"

"Not at liberty to say, ma'am."

She chuckles, sliding one hand out of the tangle and to his chest, nails gently scraping. "C'mon, Major." Her lips kiss his shoulder. "You can tell me."

"Nope." He catches her hand and kisses it, settles further into the bed.

"Major."

"Doctor."

She chuckles and kisses his neck, "Ve have ways of making you talk." The accent is badly over-done, and Zelenka would probably be unamused it he ever heard it.

"Mmm." He shifts to look over his shoulder at her. "Do you now?"

There's a laziness in both of them at this time of night. The just-had-sex, but I'm not sleepy enough to cuddle kind. She stretches against his back, rubbing a leg along his. "Oh, yes."

"Grodin told me."

She blinks, "You give in easy."

"I'm tired," he says, the tone grumpy as he turns and tries to burrow into her, head tucked under her chin.

"Ah."

She doesn't know when this stopped being something that was simply pleasurable. When she came to count on finding him in her bed, or tracking him down and following him into his. She knows she needs it, and that scares her. It's always scared her. Simon needed her, she never needed him.

Makes it easier to leave a man when you don't need him for anything. Sex is just a physical release, and there are more than enough toys for that.

Right now, she should be getting up and leaving. Traveling to her own bed, cold though it is. Instead, she's staying, she's cuddling with a man younger than her, who undermines her authority on a monthly basis. There has to be something fucked up here, but she doesn't care. His hand strays across her hip and his thumb makes a circle.

"You're thinking too much."

"I'm not thinking at all."

He rubs his face, five o'clock shadow scratching lightly at her skin. "Yes you are."

"Stop it." She jerks away, sliding from the bed before he can recover enough to catch her against him. Her pants are on top of the step stool and she has them halfway on before he catches her, hands gentle on her shoulders.

"What is it, Elizabeth?"

Her name. Her eyes close, and she wants to turn and run, regardless of how many Atlanteans would be treated to the sight of her half-naked. "John..."

Carefully, he turns her, one hand catching against her cheek. "Elizabeth."

"Don't."

The half-plea stops him. His hands drop away. "This is the end, isn't it."

She wants to say yes so much it hurts.

"Well?" The challenge in his voice forces her to look up.

Her vaunted abilities as a negotiator, her intelligence, her wit, her bluffing style - it's all gone. She can only stare at him, and wonder, vaguely, where the woman who demanded Earth be considered a Goa'uld System Lord went. Did she lose her somewhere between Earth's galaxy and Pegasus? Or was her erosion more gradual, with cocky smiles and sympathetic touches, and sex when she should be sleeping.

"You got me a birthday present."

It's not what he was expecting. "Well... yes?"

"I filled it with my - with her ashes." She steps back, nearly trips over the stool and his hands catch her again. "What does that say about me?"

"That you're practical?"

"It's not a joke, Major."

"No." His thumb strokes her cheek and he sighs. "You're too complex, Dr. Weir."

"You're wrong."

His hands drop and he looks frustrated as he scrubs one across his face. "What do you want from me?"

"Nothing."

"Great, that's just... Great."

"I'm not supposed to need you." The confession is torn from her with an ease that makes her want to flee.

"You're not?" He looks surprised.

"No."

Silence, again. And she hates that she's stuck here. Neither staying nor going. And she never answered him.

"I like needing you."

His words startle her, and she finds herself feeling desperate. She doesn't like feeling desperate. "I want to believe you."

The little silence that falls kills something inside of her.

When he moves again, it's with the creakiness of an old man, the steps stilted as he turns and sits on the edge of the bed. "Yeah..." A soundless laugh, "I should have known it was never this easy."

She knows this isn't about them, but she doesn't think he does. Some part of her wishes he knew her well enough to understand. Moving towards the bed, dropping to her knees in front of him is a shock. She was leaving. She was supposed to leave and never come back, not tangle herself further in him. "John. I - she died. I died. For you. All of you."

"Rodney."

"He said some pretty scary things."

"This..." His hand comes up and touches her cheek. "This isn't about us, is it." No question. "You're afraid."

She swallows. "Yes."

For a long time, he simply looks at her, as if trying to come up with words to say. Eventually, he grabs her hands, and tugs, dragging them both to their feet. "C'mon."

They dress in silence, and she wonders if there should be confusion.

He catches her hand in his and leads the way through the city until they're in one of the parts surveyed months before. Eventually they come to one of the stairwells and go up. And up and up until she's panting, and planning to make herself get on a better exercise regimen. At the top is one of the ubiquitous balconies that dot the ornate, yet efficient city.

They stand on the edge, looking down and out at the vastness of the glittering lights of Atlantis and the ocean so far below.

"She saved all of this."

Elizabeth stares at it for a long time, then shakes her head. "You're telling me I'm being stupid. Needlessly worried over something that may never happen."

"I worry," Sheppard says, gaze focused on a far peak, "Every day that I step through that gate that I'll return, and you'll be dead. Sometimes, I half-expect to wake up off-world in a Wraith cell waiting to be their next meal."

"Nightmares."

"Reality." He returns, glancing at her.

"I'm not going to die."

"No. You're not."

She shakes her head, and looks back at the city. "John."

"Elizabeth."

A deep breath. "This isn't the end."

"Good." He turns and takes her hand, gently pulling her against him.

"But, I don't -"

"No second-guessing." His lips touched hers gently, then he simply leans against her.

"Okay." She can do this, she thinks. Because he could die tomorrow, and then she wouldn't be tangled in him.

It's not a happy thought. But it feels stable.

-f-

Not looking for an ending to make the pieces fit Need is always pending on how much you can get - Metric 'The People'


End file.
